Checked Out
by kleptowerewolf
Summary: Ivan makes a late-night alcohol run and gets distracted by the blonde cashier on the "zombie shift." RussiAmerica,College AU. Twoshot


He wouldn't be long at all. It was just a routine alcohol run to the tiny, deserted grocery store by the exchange student dorms.

Ivan waved quickly to the stout and sleepy guard before heading to the very back for his Absolut and a little Coke for his lightweight roommates. American vodka wasn't nearly as strong as the real stuff from his native land, but with the strict airline regulations stateside and his visa, bringing enough for the entire school year would've been impossible. A few more items made their way into his basket before he headed to the front to checkout.

A tinny intercom system piped out an unfamiliar song, something almost desolate in the barren store. Only one cashier was working that night, an attractive blonde with glasses blowing a bored bubble. Ivan warmed his smile, wound his woolen scarf around his neck once more, and set his entire basket onto the worn conveyor belt. The young man looked up, startled.

"Hello." The Russian towered over the boy, who just stared for a moment before shifting his focus to the basket of alcohol and sweets.

"Party, I suppose?" With a scowl, he started to ring up a package of cookies.

"You could say that." Ivan took notice of the young man's name badge. _Alfred._ "Hey, I think I know you from my Chemistry class. Jones, right?"

"What's it to ya?" Alfred glared up, forcing Ivan to take in those intensely blue eyes and this lashes behind frames.

"I thought you were supposed to be hosting a party tonight yourself?"

"Yeah, well, my dick of a boss scheduled me to work the dead shift tonight because neither of his lazy grandsons could tear themselves away from their pet boy-toys long enough to work a job. They're pretty useless if you ask me. What sucks even more is-oh, ID please." He watched the Russian reach into his back pocket and produce a battered leather wallet. Unfortunately, Feliks had nicked his visa for a laugh about his long hair.

"Sorry, none."

"No problem." He simple bagged the alcohol and jammed at his keyboard. "As long as the boss never knows, it's cool. I do it all the time when he isn't looking." Alfred jabbed his thumb back in the direction of the slumbering officer.

"You do this often?"

"All the time. Life of the party, remember? Anyways, your total is thirty-four thirty-seven." Ivan pulled a couple of twenties from his wallet and handed them over, smirking as he noticed Alfred staring at the fit of his jeans. He lightly cleared his throat, causing Alfred to jump a bit. "Sorry!" Coins clinked as he skittishly fumbled to get the other his change and receipt with a red face. A moment passed.

"How much longer do you work?"

"What?"

"How much longer do you work?"

"Uh...about another hour. I've gotta lock up, so I can't really-"

"I'll wait here with you. It isn't like I have anything more important to attend to." He lied, knowing that the Pole all snuggled up under Toris would complain all the next morning for his disappearance.

Good. He didn't like the little pest anyway, and were it up to Ivan, his step-sister would have his head for that comment about his hair.

"Actually, maybe no-"

"Do you always pass up free liquor and sweets? I've seen you during class. Professor Yao always scolds you for eating during labs." With that, he reached across the register and walked around until nothing was between them, nothing to bread Ivan's hold on Alfred's wrist. "Let's have our own party, just us."

"...a Communist Party?" Alfred tried to keep his composure.

"If that will make you say yes."

"Alright, but not up here. We don't wanna wake that old dude. Back of the store."

"Hey, I love this song!" Alfred jumped up onto the bread island, crushing many innocent loaves, and slowly started to shimmy off his green canvas work vest. He'd already had a couple drinks in his system, including half of Ivan's, leaving him drunk enough to put on a show. "One, two, three! Peter, Paul and Mary! Got one-eighty degrees and I'm caught in between countin-" His red shirt went over his head at this point, but the one little flyaway lock of hair on his head resisted to be bothered. Ivan smirked at the stripping. It wasn't like he never wondered what the other might look like with less clothing. When Alfred's hands went to his belt buckle, Ivan's went to his wallet.

" 's that for?" He swiftly yanked off his belt mid-dance, fumbling with the zipped and button of his rather flattering (Ivan noted) jeans.

"Keep dancing and you will see." A few dollar bills were pulled from it, and the American smirked. He'd long ago abandoned his sneakers and socks by the milk cooler, so letting his pants fall to the floor was an easy feat. His comrade laughed.

"You are the most patriotic person I have ever met, you know that?"

"You're just jealous that they don't sell Communist flags here in America!" Alfred drunkenly danced more to the music in his flag boxers, trampling a good amount of stock. He nearly jumped out of his skim when cold fingers brushed the swell of his hip to stuff dollar bills into his waistband. "Damn, Braginski, those are friggin icicles!" Heat pooled at the pit of his stomach as he moved closer to the touch, a mix of alcohol and lust.

"That's what they all say, save for my psychotic step sister." As Alfred started to teeter on the edge of the shelf, Ivan caught his hips and pulled him off of the shelving unit. Both stumbled a bit from the alcohol in their systems, causing the Russian to lose balance, perform a drunken waltz with the guy in his arms, and slide down to the floor against the liquor cooler. Alfred, in slipping boxers, was now pressing a stiff pressure to Ivan's thigh as the wrapped arms around his neck and clawed into his hair.

"Yer hair is niiiice. And yer nose...I wanna bite it." He tilted his head just so, leaning in to bite the bridge of Ivan's nose. A tiny moan of approval escaped Ivan's lips, a cold hand sliding the boxers a bit as he groped. He let go and pressed their foreheads together, blue staring to violet.

"You have very lovely eyes."

"I've got lovely lips too. Wanna compare?" Alfred smashed their lips together in a heavy kiss, gasping when Ivan pinned him to the freezing cold tile. Sandy hair tickled his face and neck when the other drug kisses and love bites down his neck. Scratches formed on Ivan's back where his tank top failed to cover from Alfred's clawing.

"Mmm...hey sexy spy, why don't you, uh, heh, spy on me or something?"

"You are a terrible flirt when you're drunk. Just keep kissing, Jones." Ivan captured his lips again, this time running a hand flat down his partner's chest. Soft purring caused the Russian to chuckle, and a sort of triumph over his headstrong classmate welled up. Just then, Alfred started to giggle uncontrollably.

"This is the most fun I've ever had at work on the zombie shift!" They stopped to look at one another before Ivan fished his cellphone from his pocket. It was fifteen minutes past closing, and Alfred scrambled to throw on his clothing and shove the dollar bills into his pocket. He pulled out the stock keys and cursed at the destroyed bread as his partner in crime cleaned up their mess of chips, cookies, and empty bottles. They woke the guard and sent him home as the blonde locked up.

"Hey, thanks for tonight. It was really fun...Ivan."

"I'm glad I could make your night more enjoyable as planned." This made Alfred pause.

"Wait, what?"

"You honestly think I would just run into a store and make out with the soul clerk in the store? I've got more morals that that, Jones. I pay enough attention to you to know you work here, given your description of 'Hell' and your complaints about your schedule. I did have a legitimate reason for the cola and vodka, though."

"You're barely even said a word to me in class, and-"

"Your bother is very nice about giving detail. He was the one who told me that you can't drink to save your life, while you were the one who said you're 'life of the party.' That was all the information I needed to get closer to you."

"You really are a dirty commie, Braginski."

"How old are you, fifty?" Alfred ignored him, a little more sober in the cooling night. It was almost mid-autumn.

"There is one flaw in your plan though." He moved a little closer, tugging Ivan down by the scarf to kiss again. "You never told me if we were finishing our party at your place or mine."

He was not supposed to take all night in the store, just a routine vodka run and back. In some rights, Ivan did not spend that much time in the grocery store, rather, the detour to an American's dorm kept him out all night and left his roommates to wonder. Only the next morning did they realize, when Ivan and Alfred walked to chemistry in matching scarves.

* * *

**Thank you for reading this! I've gotten a few comments here and on LiveJournal about maybe adding a sequel to this. Agree? Disagree? Let me know in a review, and I promise I'll reply ASAP!**

***EDIT* I've decided to try and write a sequel, maybe make it a little bit smut while I'm at it. Please have patience with me, though, as I have school and such coming up, but I'll try to get to it within the month. Again, thank you!**


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